One Wayward Pinch of Potassium Chlorate
by hoofies
Summary: Demo breaks his arm, and Medic refuses to heal it due to the foolish cause of the injury. Sniper offers to help take care of Demo in his time of need. Demo/Sniper slash fic.


_Hey, thanks for reading. This fic will be NSFW at some point. There will be alcohol use, might be drug use, and might be somed medical related stuff. Enjoy, feel free to leave feedback. _

It was disgusting, the amount of effort Medic put to antagonize him. A punishment, and for what? The blame couldn't precisely be put on him for causing the explosion that blew him 20 ft back into a wall and broke his arm in three places. There were other things to consider besides the fact that he was drunk and the one in charge of the potassium chlorate. For instance, Scout, and his mere existence, combined with Soldier's incessant bugling. But there was little to be done. Tavish had done all he could to try and convince Medic to heal his right arm. From bribery, to begging, to downright threatening. Nothing had worked, and so now he was stuck with a heavy plaster cast on his dominant arm, which rested tucked against his chest, thoroughly useless now.

The only thing left to do was drink away his frustrations. Demo had downed the last of what he'd had open during the trip to the medbay after the incident. So he went to the kitchen, to his stash of booze, and got out a bottle of scrumpy, and a corkscrew. And then it dawned on him. You need two bloody hands to open a bottle of booze. And he's only got one. Tavish's face turned a ruddy red color as he got extremely angry, only managing to calm down as he heard the awkward shuffling of a certain sharp shooter. Sniper's walk was hard to mistake, as he had a tendency to drag his feet.

Turning to look at the other, he watched as the taller man went for the coffee pot, going through the motions of preparing a new brew. "Bit late tae be drinkin' coffee," the Demoman commented, though he knew perfectly well that that fact had never stopped Sniper for making coffee at midnight before. There was a pause, which stretched on far too long for Demo to be comfortable, before Sniper was finished with preparing the coffee maker, and seemed to register he'd been addressed. "Wot? ...Oh. Uh, no, Oi don't think so," Mundy stated plainly, going to get a coffee mug, before actually looking at the other.

He stared blatantly for a few moments, before pointing at the cast and sling on Tavish's right arm. "Wot's wif tha' then?" He asked, and Demo felt heat rising in his cheeks again, a combination of embarrassment and anger. "Wot's it look like? Ae broke me bloody arm," Tavish said, rather exasperated, though it didn't seem to phase Sniper. He nodded his head repetitively, humming lowly before speaking. "Medic won't heal yeh, huh?" the Sniper said, a vague hint of knowing in his tone. "He'll probably heal it once ceasefoiah's over. Yeh know, two weeks tops," he reassured him, and Demoman actually felt some relief hearing that.

After he took a deep breath, willing the fire in his cheeks away, he made his plea to the taller individual. "Ae cain't really open this bottle wif uh. One arm," Tavish stated, holding up the scrumpy and looking hopefully at the other. The request went over Sniper's head, an amazing feat considering his stature. "Would ye open it for me, mate?" He asked after Mundy's only response was a sympathetic sound. The lightbulb went off and the Aussie reached for the bottle, spotting the corkscrew and getting to work on opening the damn thing. Once the cork was out, Demo felt his frustrations falling away already. Bottle in hand, he took his first gulp. And then a few more. And then a big breath, before Demo thanked the other, so moved by this act that he gave the Aussie an impromptu one armed hug. The Sniper stiffened, even in the simple light hold of an arm over his shoulders, taking a bit to relax, but Tavish'd already noticed. Pulling away and apologizing, there was a sort of awkward air around them for some time.

Eventually, Mundy spoke up once more. "Gonna be hard doin' lots o' things wifout two hands," He stated, looking at the coffee maker rather than at Demo. Wanting to see where Sniper was going with this, Tavish waited patiently for the other to speak up again. "Yer gonna need some help," He said a few moments later. "Yeah, Ae would, yer right, lad," the Demoman agreed, flapping his useless arm and huffing as the heavy cast thumped back down against his ribs. "Ye offerin'?" He asked, and the taller of the two just nodded for a while, before giving a half smile. "But Oi won't woipe yer arse fer yeh, sorry, mate," the sharp shooter joked, a look of surprise taking over Demo's face before he started laughing raucously. "No, but Ae might ask ye tae do me belt afterwards," He quipped back, both of them laughing a little softly after that.

As Demo took a few more gulps of booze, the coffee maker went off behind them, beeping loudly, and visibly spooking the taller man, though he seemed fine after only a moment's wince. Sniper turned to pour himself a mug full of joe, which he drank black, mostly out of laziness, but also out of habit, as his father had detered him from ever drinking 'doctored' coffee. "Oi was gonna go listen ta th' game. Cricket," Sniper said, and though Demo was more of a rugby sort of person, he shrugged his good shoulder, before agreeing. "Sure. Ain't got not'in else better tae do," He said, before motioning for the other to lead the way, booze sloshing out of the bottle slightly with the movement.

Sniper took the lead, all the way out of the base, to the outskirts of the back parking lot, where his campervan was parked. He unlocked the various locks on the back door to the camper, before leading the way inside, to the small table with narrow bench seats on either side. There was booze already out on the table, imported beer bottles, some empty, some unopened, as well as a big of crisps. Mundy sat down on the side that faced the door, which seemed to be his usual spot, and Demo sat across from him. While he wasn't exactly a thin man, he didn't consider himself particularly portly either, however, he still fit quite neatly into the seating, just enough room to breathe and not much else. The Sniper was also much shorter when sitting down, and his legs were right up near Tavish's under the table, bumping into his own when Sniper reached up to turn the radio on and tune in.

As the night went on, and Tavish got more and more inebriated, and Sniper became more enthralled with the ongoing match, the conversation began to lull, and soon Demo found himself dozing off. Sniper caught on when he heard snoring, the Scot's head tilted to one side as he slept sitting up, empty scrumpy bottle in hand. Mundy jostled him awake, a snort coming from the darker man before he looked sleepily at the other. "C'mon, yeh c'n use me bed," He said, and though a protest was on his tongue, he decided not to argue. Sniper didn't seem like one to let just anybody into his own space, really. He rarely saw anyone out there with him who wasn't unwelcomed, and Sniper didn't hang around many folks other than Engineer and Heavy on occasion inside the base. So he figured, since it was a long walk back, and he was dreadfully tired. "Okay," Tavish said, wiggling out of the booth before stumbling to his feet, climbing the ladder up to the cramped bed space, and nearly slipping twice. Sniper put his hand on Demo's arse to steady him, and neither seemed to see anything out of the ordinary about that.

"Noight," the Aussie said once Tavish was settled, and Tavish mumbled a slurred good night, before quickly conking out. Sleep came easiest to him when inebriated. And sleep never really came easy to Sniper. Who stayed up the whole night, listening to midnight talk shows and drinking coffee and beer, and watching over the slumbering Scotsman in his bed.


End file.
